


this is as good a place to fall as any

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Image, Canon Disabled Character, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Time, Fluff, Fucked Up, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Finale, Post-Season/Series 02, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4416029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye and Coulson don't take it slow. And then they do.</p><p>Written for the Skoulson RomFest 2k15 Redux - Prompts: "we'll take it slow", trust issues</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is as good a place to fall as any

He watches her carefully as they drive back.

Her mood had been good enough when they left the clinic and she seemed decided as they talked about the mission.

"It's what he wanted," Coulson reminds her.

Ultimately the decision to put Cal through the Tahiti Protocol has been made between the three of them. That doesn't mean Skye won't blame herself 100% if she can.

"Yeah," she says without looking at him.

She keeps driving them in silence.

Coulson can tell her mood is worsening and worsening by the mile, and he can't do anything to stop it. Her hands grab the wheel a little too tight, and he notices her chest shakes like she is agitated.

He thinks about saying something else but he knows that support could be intrusive under the circumstances.

"I'm going to pull over for a moment," she announces.

Coulson wonders if she is feeling all right, if she wants to throw up or cry.

But when she parks Lola behind some trees in the nearby green area she does neither of those things. She leans across the seat and kisses Coulson.

She wraps her hand around the back of his neck and she has him trapped like that, the uncomfortable position versus her soft hot miraculous mouth versus the shock of being kissed versus the shock of being kissed _by Skye_.

Something's very wrong with her, Coulson thinks, but when Skye's tongue pushes inside his mouth he can only moan into the kiss and think that there's something very wrong _with him_ to let her continue.

It feels invasive, but god it feels so good. He tries to rationalize it, because it would feel good with anyone, the fact that it's Skye doesn't make a difference, and Skye needs him to be rational for both of them right now.

The way he's kissing her back, he's going to have to deal with that later. The priority here is helping Skye.

When she pulls away – is that relief what he feels? if relief feels exactly like emptiness – she has this decided expression on her face.

"So you don't find me repugnant," she says, like that was an experiment.

"What kind of question is that?" Coulson asks her.

"So no, you don't find me repugnant. Okay then."

She nods a couple of times, like trying to encourage herself.

"Skye, what is going on?"

She drops her gaze and Coulson imagines she's ashamed or something – which, no, no need, but they have to fix this immediately – but then he realizes she's just focused, working the buttons of her black pants open.

"What are you doing?" he asks, slightly horrified.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

She shoves her jeans and underwear down her hips and knees.

"Skye, stop. Talk to me," he pleads with her.

"We've talked a lot," she says, flat. "It's all I ever do. Talk and talk."

He doesn't know what to say to that, she sounds like she's talking about something Coulson can't touch, can't fix. She leaves the clothes on the floor at her feet and starts climbing accross to his seat. He doesn't stop her, and he is a bit in awe of her dexterity. He tries not to look at her legs as she crawls into his lap but he can't look at her face. Lola felt more spacious just a moment before, the seat ample, but now that Skye has her knees at each side of his hips and is holding on to the back of the leather seat Coulson can't find room enough to breathe.

There's a moment of hesitation in Skye's eyes and he knows he could do something there, say something, _help_. But there's an opposite hesitation in his heart and when Skye shakes hers off and drops her head to kiss him Coulson knows he missed that chance. This time he closes his eyes when Skye slides her tongue inside his mouth.

He can feel the pressure and the heat of her body when she settles down on his knees and Coulson has no doubt of where this is going, where it can't go, as amazing as having her half-naked body against him might feel on the surface.

He esperatedly tries to think what Andrew would say to help out. That people react to trauma in different ways, but that's no reason to act on those impulses.

The way his hand has immediately gone up her back to hold her, that Coulson will have to live with the rest of his life.

He manages to pull away, turn his head just enough to break the kiss. He's not trying to – _stop_ her, he does't think so, if this is what she really wants, but he needs to know.

"You're experiencing _grief_ ," he tells her, trying to sound rational. "This is normal. You're trying to cope."

"No shrink talk," she tells him, pressing her mouth against his again to silence him.

Coulson can't stop thinking about the fact that she's half naked sitting on his lap.

He can't stop thinking about what Gonzales said in his office, about Skye being like a daughter to him and though Coulson has never thought about it in those exact terms he guesses it should be their natural dynamic, _not this_. His stomach drops remembering the actual words, while Skye is still kissing him, scratching her nails across his cheek as she does, biting his bottom lip slightly to get a reaction from him that's not guilty acquiescence or muted horror or buried immobilized desire.

Part of him – either the best part of him or the worst part – wants to say _to hell with what Gonzales said_ if Skye wants this. _If_ she wants this. 

She grabs his wrist and guides his hand between her legs. Coulson gives a little whimper when he notices her arousal, gone is the idea that she's doing this out of simple, manegable trauma. He can't help himself, he starts touching her like she wants.

Meanwhile Skye works her hand into his pants, unzipping him, curling her fingers around him. She lifts her head when she discovers he's already hard, making eye contact, like she's surprised she doesn't have to work to get him ready.

He makes a struggling noise of surrender that might have been either a "yes", a "please" or a breathless variation of her name, and he throws his head back, giving Skye the perfect chance to press a wet kiss under his jaw. She rubs her thumb across the tip of his cock, already smeared with pre-come because _jesus fucking christ_.

"We shouldn't," he mutters weakly precisely at that and it's the most cliched line he could think of, probably, but what else can he say.

Skye stops for the first time, meeting his eyes, her fingers still around his cock.

"You mean that?" she asks, giving him the perfect out. It was easier to think she wouldn't listen to him at all.

"I don't know what we should do," Coulson admits, feeling helpless because Skye historically has better answers than him, because he always trusts her answers and apparently this is no different.

There's such emotion in her eyes now. Not like before. Not like when she stopped the car and kissed him. "Coulson, you're the only one who can..." Skye trails off, twisting her hand. Both breathless she kisses him, open-mouthed, again. "There's no one else."

"For me too," he confesses, though he's not sure what she means by that.

She brings her other hand between them and squeezes his injured arm through the sling, and Coulson knows he should be stopping this before it goes too far, but god, he just wants to feel like a fucking whole person again.

He leans forward, kissing her neck, engulfed in her familiar scent, her unfamiliar proximity and warmth. She shivers under his wet mouth and she has her hand around his cock and is guiding him to the right spot. "We don't have protection," he comments against the curve of her throat.

"I'm safe and clean and I trust you," she says.

Coulson nods, holding his breath just to avoid thrusting up already. He needs her to be the one who closes that last gap, crosses that last line between them. He wonders if he needs this so he can blame her afterwards. He can feel her, hot and wet, pressed against the tip of his cock.

"Do you want me?" she asks, like it's not evident.

"Yeah, god, yes."

She sinks into him without further warning. It takes a few thrusts up until he's all the way inside her, he has to grab the edge of the leather seat to stop himself from shaking at the sensation, and he fears he is about to come, right now, already.

Then Skye starts crying.

So quietly at first that Coulson mistakes it with her breathing and it's only when he notices her gripping his shoulder specially tight that he lifts his gaze and sees the tears.

He freezes.

This might be a new low in his life, he thinks. This takes the cake. He has a woman crying while he's inside her. He shifts in the seat, trying to gently pull out.

"No, please," Skye tells him, digging her fingernails into his shoulder. "Don't go."

"Skye?" he calls. Her sobs get a bit louder before she stops them for good. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"No," she says, lifting her gaze. "You don't get to apologize. I get to apologize."

She looks angry. And that's a lot better than her looking sad. Coulson prefers this.

She sighs, settling back on his knees. Coulson doesn't dare to breathe when their bodies change angle. She brushes her fingers across his heart, touching his left arm. "Am I hurting you?"

It's unclear whether she means physical pain – her body pressed against his stump – or otherwise, but Coulson shakes his head at her and knows she meant the question, that she worries.

He suddenly understands something, like someone just flipped a switch inside him, lighting up a room he didn't know was there in the first place. He doesn't think it would help Skye much, but at least he's lost the weight of shame and self-recrimination, which was unfair to push onto her anyway.

"I love you, Skye," he says, as quietly as he can, and it makes sense that she hears about this revelation _immediately_ because it's Skye, he'd want to tell her first. "I'm in love with you and I know telling you is not the right thing to do right now, and I'm sorry."

It's a bit disconcerting, trying to have a proper conversation – one they very much need – while he can still feel her body, her heartbeat, pulsating around his cock. But he tries to not think about that.

Skye stares at him without answer, her eyes slightly widened, her mouth slightly open, Coulson taking the chance to catch her bottom lip between his, kissing her slowly. She lets him explore her mouth but her body hums with anxiety.

"I lost my mother," she says. "A long time ago. And now I've lost my father too. Worse than lost him actually. You're the only family I have left."

He realizes what this is about.

He recalls every file he has on Skye, every gesture she's made, every defense mechanism. Andrew would tell him he's very slow. 

"You're not going to lose me," he promises her.

She narrows her eyes like she is crossed at him for saying that. "I saw you. Almost bleeding to death on that ship. Your hand and... and I thought you were dying."

Coulson pushes her hair back, wanting to see her beloved face, even if what he sees there is painful. "Is that what this is all about?" he asks.

"Yes. No. It's everything."

She kisses him again, somewhat more unexplained than the first time.

She starts moving over him again, too, to his relief, slower this time, but taking him in deeper. Coulson fists his hand into her hair to tug her against his chest, which gains him a whispered _fuck_ from Skye's mouth. She rocks her hips back and forth, and though that's good, _it's good_ , Coulson would want to grab her hips instead and lift her so he can thrust his own hips up into her. But he can't do that with just one hand and he doesn't quite feel like making precise requests of her right now.

"I'm in love with you too," she tells him in a tiny voice.

He sighs, a bit exasperated.

He doesn't mind comforting her.

He doesn't mind helping her like this.

But he doesn't want her lies. Or her gratitude down the line, this horrifying idea that she could ever feel like she owes him something for this.

"Skye you don't have to force yourself to say that just because –"

"No, it's true," she insists, while still moving over him, clenching around him for a second like she's trying to make him pay attention to her words. Coulson can't believe her, can only believe she's being kind. Because how could it be true. Because he knows Skye better than anyone, he would know if it were true. "It's true, I just – I didn't want to face it. I wanted to make it safe, like you were the same as my parents or something. Because I knew _this_ would mess everything up."

"I don't think it's going to mess anything," he tells her. Maybe he's being selfish. Maybe that's all right. "I think it's going to clear up a lot of stuff for us."

"I know what you mean," she says, dropping her head to kiss him.

They move together now, maybe for the first time.

It's still too fast and desperate, but at least it's something they are doing together, not to each other. It's easier to look at her now, now that he understands, it's easier to watch her face flushed with pleasure, to watch as she drops her hand between them and touches herself while Coulson holds on to the side of his seat, trying to snap his hips up to follow her. She comes before him and she rolls her hips into him to help Coulson get there (and it feels better than practically anything that has happened to Coulson in the last two years) and he does, god he does, his whole body jerking forward in surprise, a vague hysterical thought about how this is the first orgasm he has with another person since he came back from "Tahiti" or death or however he chooses to put it. He thinks about making a joke about Skye taking his zombie virginity but it's such a good joke and Skye is going to love it so much he decides to wait until they can actually laugh about it, wait until they are both sure this is not the worst thing they have ever done.

She pulls out immediately, with Coulson still shaking under her thighs, but she doesn't climb out to go back to the driver's seat, she doesn't try to get away or run. She curls her body into his and Coulson wraps his right arm around her back, holding her the best he can with what he can. Even through her t-shirt he can feel how hot her skin is right now. He wants to stroke her body properly and kiss her again. He becomes suddenly aware of their surroundings since she parked, suddenly aware they're almost in public.

"Why don't you drive us to a nice roadside motel and we can do this properly?" he asks her, brushing wet strands of hair off her face.

"Are there _nice_ roadside motels?" 

Coulson chuckles, happy to see she's back. Welcome back, Skye.

 

+

 

She wishes she could say taking a hot shower has made her feel like a new woman but that's only half true.

The days has turned, Skye can hear the rain raging outside and Maryland's weather just sucks.

Their room is so nice, though. At some point Coulson decided to abandon the idea of a roadside motel and look for proper accommodation instead. It looks like an expensive hotel, well outside their usual range, and she figures Coulson is splurging on account of trying to make her feel better. She could say she wishes he hadn't, but that'd be a lie. After the shower she threw on the hotel's bathrobe, and the soft and rich material already helped so – Coulson had the right idea.

She flexes her fingers and vibrates the big pillows together against the heardboard of the bed. Coulson smiles at her, admiring openly. He hasn't seen her use her powers that much, outside the couple of demostrations she had done in training for Andrew's evaluation. 

Skye crawls over the bed covers and shoves her face into the softness of the pillows.

"I ordered some cold dinner when you were out," Coulson tells her. "If you are hungre later."

She moans into the pillow and turns her face, noting the room service tray for the first time. She can see sandwiches and salad and one of those half-size bottles of red wine. She turns to the other side and gives Coulson a little nod, grateful.

He's made himself comfortable. No jacket. No tie. No shoes. But his left arm still in a sling. Skye thinks it will take her a long time to get used to seeing him like that, with his hand missing.

"How are you feeling?" he asks her.

"Shitty," she tells me. "Which I think it's how I'm supposed to feel about all that's happened."

He sits by his side on the bed – Skye liked the way he didn't even try to pull some let's-get-two-rooms or even let-get-separate-beds crap, he just took care of everything – and rests his hand on her back. He buries his fingers in her hair, moving them upwards, massaging the back of her neck.

That feels good. Better than anything so far. Or at least it feels good in a less complicated way.

Somehow it feels more intimate than when they fucked. Skye doesn't like to use that word with Coulson – he's purer, cleaner than that, but thinking like this is probably an issue as well. She's fucked people (not that many, there have never been that many people she can trust like that) and for way worse reasons than the one she had when she kissed Coulson hours ago. 

"I'm sorry," she says. "I know you didn't exactly sign up for this."

"It's okay," Coulson tells her. "You didn't sign up for a lot of things. Including watching as alien blood turned me into a carving maniac. We have each other's back."

She rests her head on her elbow and looks up at him, more curious than fearful about his answer.

"Is that all? That we have each other's back?"

"No," he replies. "I'm not taking back anything I said in the car." Then he smiles shyly at her. "well, maybe when I told you to stop. I take that back. I don't want you to stop."

He lies down by her side, touching his mouth to hers.

Skye kisses back, experimentally, wanting to know how it feels to kiss Coulson because she wants to, not because she needs it. It feels good, like self-indulgent good, and she's no longer trying to make herself feel better by using him, by trying to keep him by her side any means necessary. It feels good but Skye wonders if that's enough.

"I'm scared," she admits.

Coulson strokes her hair sweetly again, again pressing his thumb against that spot on her nape that makes everything better. "That's okay too."

"Because you mean so much to me, it's hard for me to trust that instinct," she explains. She's decided to tell him everything. "Because it's never worked out for me."

"Loving someone?" he asks, bashful, like he's embarrassed by the words.

Skye shakes her head. "Someone _loving me_."

That doesn't faze him, though Skye would like him to repeat what he told her in Lola, someday, when they are ready.

"I know it's hard for you but maybe if you trust the other person, trust that they want to stay with you," he says instead.

That sounds very different from when he told her they should stop, back in the car. "How can you be so calm?" Skye asks, a bit annoyed, because she doesn't want to be the one lagging behind, she doesn't like feeling like Coulson knows something she doesn't.

"I'm not calm. But I told you. A lot of things became clear today. I had to stop telling myself a lot of lies."

She gets that, even though for her the whole point of trying to have sex with Coulson was to make him a fixed point in her life, not a variable. The whole point was to make him give her everything Cal and Jiaying couldn't. It wasn't about comfort – though she let him believe it was, because Coulson would do anything not to see her sad. But it was a lie.

"I don't like lies," she says.

"Me neither," Coulson agrees. "I get that from you."

That makes her smile.

This is weird, she thinks.

This doesn't make much sense, she thinks. Not that she really minds.

It's just weird to have had sex. Not in general – she's been having sex for a long, long time. It's not even weird in the sense of having had sex with Coulson, that's weird but also makes sense. What is weird is having had sex once she's changed, once she's an Inhuman. Like there was some kind of second virginity there to take care of, or like she wasn't exactly sure her body worked with other human beings now (stupid, because she knew about her parents, but that made sense a bit later and after the underground city she had this feeling that her body wasn't _right_ anymore when it came to this – she was even scared to jerk herself off for a long time). So yeah, that was kind of momentuous, there with Coulson in the car.

This feels easier because of it, the way Coulson is pressing soft unintrusive kisses on her neck, because the bad part, the worst Skye could do, is over, and at least there wasn't any extra Inhuman surprise there.

"Your father loved you," Coulson is saying, still trying to comfort her. "Your mother too. They didn't mean for you to lose them. It wasn't their fault. They wanted to stay by your side."

He knows this is about that, more than... this is not entirely _not_ about Coulson, but it's about all that stuff as well, and about wanting to keep Coulson with her, close, forever, the way she couldn't keep her parents.

And she realizes she's pushing everything about Cal and her mother onto Coulson, and that's unfair and messed up, but she can't help herself, she needs him.

"And I thought I was a screw up before," she comments.

"People are not that simple," Coulson says. "What's in a person's heart... it's complicated, it's hard to know."

"What's in your heart?" she asks, because she can't help herself, wondering how much room is left there.

" _You_ ," he says.

He's smooth.

He's the best.

And because he's the best he slips his hand under the shoulder of the rob and starts pulling the fabric off Skye, stroking the exposed skin as he does. 

"Do you want me to do this?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure? The first time I touched you I made you cry."

She blushes and turns her head away, so mortified.

"Sorry, it was meant to be a joke," he says, kissing her bare shoulder and drawing lazy circles over her stomach. He gets the hint when Skye lifts his hips off the bed for a moment, seeking the feeling of her fingers on her skin. He thumbs the curve of her hipbone and down the top of her thigh before reaching between her legs.

Skye holds her breath at that first moment of contact, not knowing what she would feel about it.

She's not wet yet – she does feel a bit bad about that, it doesn't really have to do with how much she wants him, but Coulson doesn't seem to think much of it, it just makes him go slower at first more careful, teasing her through the fabric of her panties before slipping his hand under the waistline. It's so much better than in the car, and it reminds Skye how great is when someone else does this, after a couple of years of having to take care of these needs herself, a voice in the back of her mind telling her that it was going to be the case forever and she should just be resigned.

"Everything all right?" Coulson asks.

She nods. His thumb stops rubbing her clit gently and he presses his finger to her arousal. 

"Are you okay for this?" he asks, rather graphically for the boss.

She nods again, her mouth going dry. "Go on," she utters, because she wouldn't want him to have any doubt.

He pushes the first finger inside her.

It feels amazing and she buries her face against Coulson's shoulder while she moans a bit, because it's a bit pathetic how much she likes it, that first moment. Coulson holds her – well, not really, he can't, exactly, his one hand occupied, but he presses his chest against her to let Skye anchor herself while he twists his finger.

"Another one is okay?" he asks.

And he probably can read the mood but Skye thinks it's hot that he asks. It makes her feel a bit bad about her outburst in Lola again, but she pushes those thoughts away and concentrates in how amazing her body feels when Coulson slips a second finger into her. Coulson gets her off quickly, and gently, and she finds it hard to believe this is the same guy who hesitated and trembled during their fumbling disaster of this afternoon. This guy is different, or maybe she is, she doesn't really know.

It totally surprises her when she comes, like she wasn't really expecting it, and Coulson looks at her with a self-satisfied smirk which makes Skye feel loved and normal at the same time.

She slips out of the bathrobe completely (the bedsheets feel amazing, how much does this place even cost) and takes his mouth in hers, twisting her fingers into the collar of his shirt, disappointed he's completely dressed. She wants to feel more of his skin on hers.

"More?" she demands of him.

His hard-on is clearly visible through the outline of his pants, and Skye wants to do something for him too, and maybe she's curious about how it would feel, to have him moving inside her without – well, without her basically attacking him. She wants him to be on top next time, but she's not sure how to ask.

She grabs the collar of his shirt, dropping her fingers to the first done button. Coulson stops her, grabbing her wrist gently but definitely _firmly_.

"No," he says. Then, softer: "At least not tonight."

"I'm sorry, I –"

He gives her a complicated look, but nothing in his eyes is unkind or suggests Skye has done anything wrong. He brushes his thumb along her pulsepoint.

"I'm not quite ready for you to see me naked," he simply tells her.

"I can kill the lights if that's better."

He drops his gaze for a moment, but he's still smiling, like her pragmatism is touching, and he looks younger there for a second, Skye can't resist but kiss the top of his head as he ducks. Her hair short and soft and still smelling nice despite having spent the whole day on the road.

"It's okay," he tells her, threading his fingers with hers. "It means a lot to me that you don't find me repugnant."

His words make her relive the whole scene.

"Oh my god I'm such a mess."

He presses his mouth against her temple, like repaying her gesture from one second ago. "You're not. You're just... human."

"Is that a joke?" she asks, a bit appalled at the bad taste. A bit relieved, too.

Coulson shrugs.

"It wasn't supposed to be but... what can I say? I'm a naturally funny guy."

And yeah, she laughs, so maybe he's right.

She still gestures between their bodies.

"I could do something about it. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"That's – no – not necessary. Thank you, Skye," he says, sounding bizarrely professional and appropriate for someone who has just refused a handjob. She's almost surprised he hasn't called her _Agent_ or something ludicrous.

"Okay, but tell me. When you're ready. Cause I'd like to – you know. I'd really like that."

He smiles at her like she's cute and clueless and Skye guesses she can live with that.

"I promise," he says, kissing her mouth and her cheeks and her eyelids.

At least she doesn't feel like it's her fault, and she understands him, even though the reasons make her sad, but it's still weird to have to wait for a guy to be ready to have sex. Specially after they have already had sex. Phil is full of surprises.

"Can we go to sleep?" she asks. "I really don't feel like eating."

She knows it's a mistake and it's early and she'll probably wake up hungry at two in the morning and she'll climb out of bed to devour the cold sandwiches and Coulson will see her and wonder why the hell he ever went near her. That or he'd want to eat too and talk about all the stuff they are very intentionally not talking about right now. Skye decides to risk it.

And she guesses this is as much as Coulson is going to undress in her presence for now, so she gives him one of the pillows and grabs the bed covers and pulls them over their bodies.

Coulson bites the inside of his cheek, looking uncomfortable.

"Uh, Skye?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd love to hold you through the night, but I can't rest the arm over anything or sleep on it just yet," he says, sounding unnecessarily apologetic.

"That's okay," she says, grabing him by the sides and pushing him onto his right shoulder. "I can be the big spoon tonight, no problem."

Coulson lets out a choked noise, throaty and surprised. Skye is pretty sure it's a chuckle because she doesn't want to think it's a sob.

"Thanks," he says and his voice is normal, thank god, he was amused. "I'll return the favor when possible."

Figuring out a way to cuddle him from behind is, for a moment, more complicated than crawling into Lola's passenger seat with no pants on. Which reminds her.

"There's something I really, really don't regret about today," she tells Coulson while she presses her chest against his back, finding a way to tangle her foot under his left calf that is comfortable.

"What is it?"

"Our first time was in Lola," she says.

She can feel the vibrations around Coulson's body – she's been too distracted and upset all day to be able to, read people's vibrations, but now she can again, and it's like the world has changed from black and white to color again – and how they soften and sing in that moment.

"It makes sense," she adds.

"Yes," he agrees, pushing back against her body to fill every gap where they are not touching and they should be. "It makes sense."

Skye moves her hand along the length of his left arm, lightly, making sure it's all right and she's not hurting him. He stiffens a bit when she feels for the stump and then relaxes when her fingers curls peacefully into the hollow of his elbow instead.

She feels it the moment he falls asleep, the vibrations over his skin getting quieter and quieter until they become a hushed lullaby, or the sea on a good day, as even as his heartbeat and his breathing. Skye presses her cheek against the short, tickling hair on the back of his neck and starts chasing the same peace, the same sense of belonging, the same song as she feels inside him. It doesn't take her long. They're well-matched.

This makes sense, she thinks.


End file.
